The Un-Vacation Times

O’, the good God, he has been having those

dreams again: all Technicolor and gold.

“Her hardest hue to hold,” he did suppose,

which was true, as it turns out, and he knows

now for certain: hurting like the sick dog.

All those dreams again: gold and Technicolor.

 

The dreams: fraught with girl ass, which is hard like

Zeus’s one true living ass: marble rock.

It is this only, never anything else.

So you see why the dreams weigh down his cock?

O’, but someday he will make a great splash.

Someday they will make movies to explain.

 

Yes, we all know that piss can’t warm a bed,

but on those cold nights thoughts get to his head.

The Post Life Times

‘Só ready to die’: everyone says that.

 For instance, take in, a look, around you:

‘I’m a psychedelic nuisance; I’m fat;

 I’m got no pussy; I’m got eat by rat.’

 Too much: heaven would never stand for such.

 For example, just take in all the looks.

 

 And so it is that he wonders about

 these things: to die and be dead forever.

 Eternal recreation feels like: lack

 luster; basically, it’s just whatever.

 And we are now climaxing to the point,

 right on time for a late-life conversion:

 

 Hallelujah and holy, holy shit,

 things get heavy babe, be ready for it.

New Boyscouts Record

click ^

it's for you

Happy Birthday, Andrew

Places You Read About in Books

While taking a walk with Karl, 

I stopped dead

in my tracks.

There was a strange sound developing.

And also, in time

ending.

But I’ll get back to that.

I said:

“Do you ever think about the new ghosts?”

“I mean the ones that have just died.”

“Don’t you suppose they’ve learned to be intimidating from movies we’ve seen?”

And it’s true.

How could a ghost ever be taken seriously if you’ve seen the movie?

Let’s digress:

Often times I will smile in dark rooms so as to throw off any lurking evil.

This is the same logic I use to justify winking knowingly at dogs as I pass them.

Is this rational? (note: I’m talking to myself here)

“I don’t care if is or not,” I say.

(note: I have said this aloud and thus lose the luxury of being considered rational)

Taking a walk:

It was a pleasant night as far as the weather was concerned and I’ll be damned if those dead leaves rustling in the wind didn’t remind me precisely of a warm summer night in Maycomb, Alabama. 

Again and Again

Broken light equals no problem

Tonight my appearance is a little not nice: I look disgusting

And so if it follows that seeing begets believing

None of this is real anyways

 

I am not not wearing underwear

I am not drinking Mountain Dew with my pumpkin pie

I am not boycotting the mirror

I am not writing the same poem again and again

 

Yesterday my car stereo was ripped off

This doesn’t really upset me, but I wonder where it is

Maybe another car was very sick

Maybe it needed an emergency stereo transplant

And so the car doctor had to break my window with a metal stick

There was probably just no time to ask me

I understand that, that’s easy to understand

 

Here’s something that’s not:

 

Yesterday my car stereo was ripped off

This doesn’t really upset me, but I wonder where it is

Maybe another car was very sick

Maybe it needed an emergency stereo transplant

And so the car doctor had to break my window with a metal stick

There was probably just no time to ask me

I understand that, that’s easy to understand

 

Sometimes I dream about flying into outer space

The whole scene would be a tremendously stupid looking thing

But that’s the way I would want it to look

With hands above head, I might blast off like a rocket ship

Rainbow colored exhaust would commence to shoot out from my sneakers

And with Old Glory rolling down my back, I’d fly all the way to Fairy Land

Leaving Andrew Jambura back on earth

(Poorly choosing to play his new songs about America in America)

What he doesn’t realize is that he’s still in those songs

And that if no one cares, he might care about that

 

Getting older by the minute now

Maybe too old to understand how young I am

Everything is very unclear

All I know for sure is that it starts at the beginning

From there, stereos and outer space define its direction exactly

Who cares? Who cares? Who cares?

I don’t (sometimes). 

Every 3,000 Miles

Ten A.M. oil change at pro lube express:

Investigated Saturday morning

Clad in "Harvard" sweatshirt plus sincere smile

I said, "mornin'" and truly did mean it

Like when my dad recalls his Texas tongue

(Everyone smiles in the early spring sun)

Wasting not killing time, I took a walk

Back to see angels regarding my car

About thirty bucks for the procedure

My debit card was very slow to process

"At Penny's these things go in a second!"

Goddamn right they do. "I 'preciate it."

 

No Prospects = No Problem

 

When speaking of practical “majors”

Some elders they think me in danger

What they don’t respect

Is what I don’t expect

“College” just makes you stranger

 

For Kilgore Trout (a personal hero)

Authored two thousand short stories

With aluminum storm window glories

You’re gross, some say mean

Wrote for porn magazines 

You could care less no one’s read your stories

 

Freak Flag Reality

 

Silly is the pony-tailed boy

His luck with the ladies destroyed

Small children amused

His gender confused

Those long locks of hair are his joy

 

Half-true pastime

 

While naked I practice karate

Conceding my moves are shoddy

Like “Apocalypse Now”

I’m Martin Sheen somehow

On Fridays I practice karate 

I didn’t know it was Ash Wednesday

 

Look at us all with black ash

I don’t doubt to dust I will crash

But no cross on my head

Cause I was in bed

When God distributed ash

 

Cigarettes

 

Cigarettes will make you die

Certain as penguins can’t fly

And if I needed a treat

I know which I’d eat

Those penguins surely would fry

 

Real Talk

 

I once saw Good Will Hunting

If I said it were bad I’d be fronting

But I might not admit

That I have seen it

If with “the boys” I were hunting

 

Story of his life

 

Beethoven Five with my shave

Look how refined I behave

But I don’t have a job

My parents I rob

At least I have sense to shave

Birthday Present to Myself

New Song:

"Happy Birthday, Andrew: Self Portrait at 19"

http://www.myspace.com/handprintsmusic

thanks.

2/7/09: Theme and Variations

Hearing things in my head

I'd like to think that I am insane or brilliant

(What difference could it make?)

I conclude: “any other reality would be devastating”

 

And

 

Today the air was sweet enough to smell

With my nose and lungs

I only mention this because until last

Week, the air had been too cold to smell

“Not since November” I thought…

I’ve often seen the TV news show how elderly people

Have a tough time shoveling in cold weather

Due to the frigid air’s effect on breathing

I get that

 

For a list of things I don’t get, please

Refer to poems XXII-XXXIV

Which can be reviewed at City Hall

Monday thru Friday (business hours only of course)

 

All nonsense aside

Nice breezes and a coke are good enough for now

Yes sir,

Looking out my window, I don’t sense any part of my body

Individually

It all runs together and I feel alright

And even when things start to shift again, I just listen to

That music in my head

Sometimes it’s this one song, the rest of the time

It’s very quite

I can always be still when I want to:

4/4 is 4/4 is 4/4

 

  

Life's a Picnic

Developing karate moves in my grandparent’s basement

I was formerly developing hard-hitting thoughts in

My grandparent’s tub

This is the sum of my toil:

“I am hot, in this tub I am”

“I shall cut this hair, shear my fur I shall”

Think ahead

(The Voice of reason)

Then it hits me

(From the Almighty cosmos)

The heat would return!

Goddamn!

The heat would return to whip my scalp

Hair, or no hair

I sank back into the tub and was drowned 

That was then

Now, I am developing karate

Isn’t life a picnic?